


Tree of Life

by lamardeuse



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-05-19
Updated: 2010-05-19
Packaged: 2017-10-09 13:59:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,010
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/88224
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lamardeuse/pseuds/lamardeuse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Everybody wants to save the galaxy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tree of Life

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Aerly and the 2007 Sweet Charity auction.
> 
> Set generally mid-season 2, a few months after the events in "Runner".

Most days, Evan Lorne liked his job, as much as you _could _like a job involving the constant threat of death. Still, if he didn't like it, or at least think it was important, he wouldn't still be with the SGC after five years, and he sure as hell wouldn't be living in another galaxy where freaky alien space vampires were always looking to get you on their lunch menu.

Some days were better than others, though, and every once in a long while, a trip through the gate was more like a vacation than work. He'd been lucky enough to score one of those three days ago, when the Colonel had assigned his team to safeguard a botanical expedition to M4X-887. “You're due for a break,” Sheppard had said, smiling at him. “Bring your sketchbook; from the way it's described in the Ancient database, it sounds like an artist's paradise.”

There were still times when Evan had no idea how to take Sheppard; his style of command was as close to no style of command as he'd ever seen, but crazily enough, it seemed to work. It helped that Sheppard commanded probably the most dedicated, highly-trained fighting force in the modern-day military, but Evan knew men and women like that were less inclined to blindly follow orders, especially from a CO who didn’t live up to their own high standards. He also knew he'd follow Sheppard to hell and back, and he was pretty sure every other man and woman serving on Atlantis would sign up for the same march. In the end, that was all that mattered.

He walked through the gate with his team, his sketchbook, his P90, and five botanists, all practically vibrating with excitement. It didn't take long to figure out why they were so hyped. The Cereans lived in a garden that made Eden look like a garbage dump. They'd been practicing planned cultivation for over ten thousand years, and they were damned good at it, but for them, it was more than planting crops in a field and hoping they'd grow. Evan and the rest of the Lanteans soon discovered the Cereans' relationships to the soil and the plants they grew in it were almost symbiotic, a sacred trust they took very seriously.

Their dedication was reflected in the unparalleled splendor of their gardens; the groundskeepers at Versailles would weep and fling themselves at the feet of the Cereans if they could've seen their work. Evan wasn't an expert at landscaping, but he did like to think he knew beauty when he saw it, and the carefully planned arrangement of the dozens of species into a harmonious whole was beautiful. It was also everywhere you looked, because the Cereans didn't believe in separating plants – or land – according to function. Their houses, shops, town squares and bridges were surrounded (and often covered) by painstakingly maintained greenery, and their food crops were intermingled with their flowers and ornamental shrubs. It should have ended up looking like a mess, but instead it was breathtaking and strangely humbling.

Of course, the discovery of a society that revolved completely around the reverent care of plant life was every botanist's wet dream, and it was kind of fun to watch the science team stumbling around with big, stupid grins plastered to their faces. The only one Evan had had any kind of prior contact with was the science team leader, Doc Parrish, a tall, gangly Canadian who came across like the stereotype of the absent-minded professor. If Sheppard was sometimes a mystery to Evan, Parrish was a total cipher, but then a lot of the scientists were.

Sure, Evan knew the Atlantis expedition had started out as a mission of exploration, and when you were out wandering around in a new galaxy, you needed everything from anthropologists to zoologists. But once the Wraith woke up and things started getting nasty quick, Evan had been surprised that what he thought of as the more esoteric disciplines had continued on with their work. What's more, when contact with Earth had been reestablished, he would have thought a lot more of those non-essential people would have bugged out back to safer territory. Some had left, but an equal number had come to take their places, with the blessing of the SGC.

That last part was the hardest of all to fathom. When the shit hit the fan, you needed a McKay or a Zelenka to build you a better bomb, but when the hell would you ever need an ornithologist to save the day? Maybe in ten or twenty years, when things had quieted down, they could let every guy and gal with a butterfly net and a Ph.D. roam around Pegasus, but until then, it just seemed to Evan like an unnecessary risk for civilians to have to take.

Still, it wasn't his place to question the SGC's decisions, or for that matter the reasons a guy like Parrish decided to leave his safe little planet for Atlantis. Maybe he didn't even think of the risks all that much; from what he'd seen of Parrish, it didn't seem like he was even aware of reality half the time.

There were days Evan envied him that luxury.

    
    
    
    
 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

    
    
    
    
 

  
The Cereans were generous hosts, and the first night they threw one of those feasts you only read about in somebody else’s mission reports. It was all vegetarian, but the highest compliment Evan could think of was that you’d never know it. The Cereans combined fruits, vegetables, grains and spices in ways that made him forget steak had ever existed – at least for a while.

He opened his eyes at one point, having closed them in sheer gastronomic delight, to see Parrish smiling at him across the table. When Evan cocked an eyebrow at him, Parrish cleared his throat. “Um. You seem to be – enjoying the meal,” he said, flapping a hand at Evan's plate.

If Evan didn't know the guy had a Ph.D., he might be tempted to wonder about his IQ at that one. “Yeah, it's – really good.”

Evan blinked. Wow, looked like he needed to go back to school himself. “I mean, it's – I've never eaten anything like it.”

“I know,” Parrish said, leaning forward enthusiastically, “it reminds me a little of Kashmiri cooking, but then again –” and from there he was off and running, engaging Evan and their hosts in a lively discussion of world – uh, make that intergalactic – cuisine. Evan was stunned to realize the guy he'd thought of as a Casper Milquetoast had backpacked all over India and Southeast Asia after he’d finished his undergrad degree, and had eaten things Evan had never even heard of. The thought that somebody like Parrish would be a closet adventurer threw him for a loop, and he ended up mostly watching the rest of the supper conversation from the sidelines.

After dinner, which had to have been about fifty-three courses, everyone sat around in an overstuffed stupor. There was wine, but Evan had managed to make one glass last most of the night. He never let himself get more than slightly buzzed on alcohol when offworld, even in a situation as low-risk as this one. None of his team did, but then it wasn’t like you were ever one hundred percent off duty in Pegasus.

The scientists were another matter. Evan didn’t know if it was the booze or the company, but they were starting to get downright giggly and giddy, like teenagers sharing a forty-ouncer of cheap bourbon. He didn’t begrudge them their fun, but he didn’t relish trying to prevent an interplanetary incident when one of them decided to take a leak in the sacred rose bushes later on. Unfortunately, there wasn’t anything in the regs about how to enforce civilian bedtimes, so Evan had to go with the flow and hope for the best.

He shouldn’t have worried: this bunch was about as tame as you got. At worst, there was some very uncoordinated dancing, a little singing (Evan winced at Dr. Brown’s attempt to belt out Aretha Franklin songs; some things just shouldn’t be allowed) and an attempt on the part of one of the botanists to teach juggling to several amused Cereans. Nobody made an asshole of themselves, though Evan still breathed a sigh of relief when the party broke up a couple of hours before dawn.

“Oh, God, I’m drunk,” Parrish said, as Evan walked with him back to the quarters they’d been assigned.

_You got a real talent for stating the obvious, Doc,_ Evan thought about saying, but didn’t. Parrish wove a little to the right, and Evan grabbed his elbow to set him back on his previous course.

“I haven’t been drunk since…” Parrish thought about it for a while. “Two Christmases ago. No, three.”

“Then I guess you were about due,” Evan observed.

Parrish came to a complete stop, though he wobbled a bit before he went completely still, and faced Evan. “I only drink for very special occasions,” Parrish informed him solemnly.

Evan’s mouth twitched. “I believe you.”

“I came out to my father two Christmases ago.” Parrish blinked. “Three.” He waved a hand. “Whatever.”

Evan’s mouth slammed shut. Okay, he hadn’t been expecting that one.

“He didn’t take it very well.” Parrish licked his lips and looked away. “He was a car salesman. Not that I think that necessarily had anything to do with it.”

“I’m sorry,” Evan said. Since he was stone cold sober, he didn’t say he’d never gotten around to telling his own dad.

“Well. He’s dead, so –” Parrish scrubbed a hand over his face. “Hm. I should probably stop talking now.”

“It’s kinda late,” Evan said, as kindly as he could. “You must be tired.”

“Yes, I suppose so,” Parrish said, though the weariness in his tone was more than exhaustion. He resumed walking again with only a slight stagger, and this time Evan kept his hands to himself.

    
    
    
    
 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

    
    
    
    
 

  
Evan didn’t exactly avoid Parrish the next day, but he figured he’d give him some room, so he went off into the hills for the afternoon with Dr. Torrington and helped him schlep sensor equipment all over the place. By the time they were ready to call it a day, Evan had worked off a lot of the – whatever the hell Parrish’s unexpected confession had stirred up in him.

The thing was, he’d never really thought of his sexual preferences all that much. He supposed he was bi, but he’d always hated labels like that; the politics had never interested him, being career military, and he didn’t like dealing with the personal fallout, either. You told people you were bi and half of them thought you were into all kinds of kinky shit, while the other half would always be wondering when you were going to get around to cheating on them. It was better not to get into detailed descriptions of what and who got him off, for all kinds of good reasons.

He'd turned thirty-five last year, and he was kind of depressed to admit he hadn’t been thinking much about sex lately. It wasn’t like he'd had a lot of opportunities, but he also hadn’t gone out of his way to take advantage of the few that had come his way. Even back at the SGC, pickings had been slim, at least according to his standards. He found on-base relationships to be too incestuous, too messy if things ended badly, and pursuing off-base relationships meant there was a huge chunk of your life you couldn't talk about with the person who was supposed to share your closest secrets. The job took ninety-five percent of your energy anyway, and after a while it became easier not to make the effort.

It was true when Evan told himself he was at the top of his game physically, at a peak in his career, doing some of the most important work anyone could be doing in this or any other galaxy. He told himself that was enough, and it didn't matter if there was no one special person in his life.

Then he told himself he was full of shit, and that was true, too.

  


    
    
    
    
 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

    
    
    
    
 

The sun was well on its way to setting when Evan ran into Parrish again. He was looking about as tired as Evan felt, but he nevertheless mustered a smile as Evan approached.

“Hey, Doc,” Evan said, “what'd you discover today?” Parrish was in the middle of an orchard garden, the heavily laden fruit trees interspersed in a seemingly random pattern with flower and herb beds. As he walked, Evan's boots crushed the plants, causing waves of minty scent to rise up and wash over him.

“Quite a few things, actually,” Parrish answered. Evan noticed his hair was mussed, like he'd been running his hands through it. He wondered if Parrish did that a lot when he worked. “Most importantly, we've been learning more about the specific cultivation techniques of the Cereans.”

Evan smiled and nodded. He knew just enough about genetics to know he didn't know much. “Cool. But with all the genetic manipulation you do nowadays, isn't that all kind of – ” Evan waved a hand, not wanting to insult the Cereans who were within earshot.

“Ancient history?” Parrish asked wryly, his voice pitched only for their ears. “It's much more than that. Not all agricultural producers have access to sophisticated laboratories, and not everyone wants to use bioengineered seed, or plants that have been exposed to pesticides and other chemical agents. If we can learn something from ten millennia of experience and knowledge...”

Evan nodded his understanding, while his tired brain tried to wrap itself around what Parrish was saying. He'd never given much thought to the different ways all these esoteric studies could have practical applications in the Milky Way galaxy, or on their own planet. In his own defense, he'd been a little busy killing bad guys, but he still felt stupid for never having asked.

Looking up, Evan saw a heavily laden branch filled with what looked like delicious purple fruit. The scent coming off them made his mouth water, and he realized he hadn't eaten for hours. Before he knew what he was doing, he reached up and plucked one of the fist-sized orbs off the tree.

“No!” Parrish's shout drew the gazes of the nearby Cereans, whose eyes widened as they saw what Evan was holding. _Oh shit, _Evan thought, _I've touched the sacred tree and now they're going to chop us all up for fertilizer._

The Cereans began running toward them, and Evan braced, cursing himself for leaving his P90 in the hut; it was a hell of a lot more intimidating-looking than the .45, and he didn't want to have to actually open fire on these people. He shot a look at Parrish, who he belatedly realized had reached out and closed his hand over Evan's. His touch was warm and solid, reassuring in a way Evan didn't have the time to think about right now.

“I didn't know it wasn't allowed – ” Evan began.

Parrish shook his head. “It's not that. You haven't offended any custom; they're only concerned because the fruit is poisonous.”

Evan frowned. “Poisonous?”

Martilla, one of the Cereans, nodded as she stepped up to them. “Yes, to offworlders. It is not fatal, but it causes great distress.”

Evan looked down and saw that Parrish was still holding onto his hand. When he looked up, Parrish started guiltily and let go of him, and Evan ignored the way his fingers tingled. “It seems to be a food only the Cereans can digest; some feature of their physiology that's evolved unique to this world.”

“Oh.” With his hand finally free, Evan handed the fruit to Martilla. “Sorry.”

“Not at all,” Martilla said easily. “If you are hungry, the evening meal is being prepared in the dining hall.”

“Thanks,” Evan said, feeling sheepish, like a little boy caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

“Mind if I join you? I – I was hoping we could talk,” Parrish murmured, expression hesitant and shuttered.

Evan suppressed a sigh. “Sure, Doc. Actually, let me clean up first and then I'll meet you there, huh?”

Parrish looked him up and down, taking in his grimy state, and nodded. “Fine. See you in a bit, Major.” Evan nodded back and watched him go, wishing fervently that he hadn't walked Parrish home last night.

    
    
    
    
 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

    
    
    
    
 

  
Luckily, the rest of his team and the other botanists were already digging into supper by the time Evan reached the hall, and so there wasn't any opportunity for Parrish to corner him. Whenever he happened to look up, though, he caught Parrish eyeing him from across the table like a chicken hawk watching the coop. No chance of escape, Evan thought grimly.

Out of habit, Evan took a quick head count and noticed that one of the botanists, Dr. Brown, was missing. “Hey, Shapiro, you seen Doc Brown today?”

Sergeant Shapiro shook his head. “She went off to study at the library for the day.”

“Without escort?”

Shapiro hesitated for a second before answering, and Evan waved a hand. “Yeah, okay, _library_. I'm being paranoid, I know.”

Shapiro's lips twitched. “Understandable in this galaxy, sir. I did check on her at midday, and everything was fine.”

“Probably just lost track of time,” Evan mused, making a mental note to stop by the library after the meal. The fact that it gave him an excuse to postpone Parrish's heart-to-heart had nothing to do with his decision to do it himself.

When Brown showed up halfway through supper, Evan's heart sank. She saw him and made a straight beeline for him, a determined look on her normally placid face.

“Major Lorne,” she said softly, “may I talk to you after supper?”

_Take a number,_ Evan felt like saying. “Is it urgent?”

Brown's gaze darted to the nearest of the Cereans, about ten feet down the long table. “Yes, but it can wait that long.”

Evan schooled his expression to neutrality. Wonderful; whatever her discovery was, she didn't want to alert the Cereans to what she'd found. So much for a simple, easy mission; he hadn't even had a chance to dig out his sketchbook. He nodded, and Brown moved to sit at the spot Torrington had saved for her.

    
    
    
    
 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

    
    
    
    
 

  
“I don't think the Wraith have visited this planet in a very long time.”

Evan stared at her; so did the rest of the Lanteans, who'd gathered in the main room of the guest quarters they'd been assigned for the duration of their stay. “Are you sure of that?” Parrish asked.

Brown nodded. “Not one hundred percent, but fairly sure. The records they keep go back a remarkably long way, not only regarding their cultivation experiments, but regarding their history in general. The cultivation records are intact and unbroken back to almost three thousand years, which is – ”

“Extraordinary for a society that experiences regular cullings,” Torrington finished for her. “One might almost say impossible.”

“I spent hours looking, but I wasn't able to find any references in recent histories to any wraith activity. Now, that doesn't mean they're not there to be found, but...” She spread her hands.

“It does seem strange,” Parrish said, rubbing the back of his neck. “It's occurred to me that the Cereans do have a remarkably – relaxed – society.”

“And they don't seem to have developed any defensive measures against the wraith,” Shapiro added. “Not the way we've seen on practically every other world.”

“But the bottom line is, none of us are experts on this stuff,” Evan said. “We should get a couple of dedicated historians in here to go through those archives with a fine tooth comb. No offense, Doc.”

Brown shook her head. “None taken.”

“And maybe a sociologist or two,” Evan added. Wow, had he just said that?

“Why don't we just come out and ask them what their secret is?” Parrish asked.

“Because maybe it is a secret,” Evan answered. “There could be all kinds of reasons they're not culled, right down to them being wraith worshippers. And we don't even know at this point if we're right about this.” He paused to survey the room, then nodded. “Okay, folks, get some shut-eye, and we'll continue on as before until we get confirmation of Doc Brown's hypothesis.”

  


    
    
    
    
 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

    
    
    
    
 

The Cereans had no problem with having a few more Lanteans over to visit, and so three new members were added to the expedition. Evan had gated back to Atlantis the next morning with Doc Brown to explain the situation to Doctor Weir, and she'd approved the work, reluctantly.

“I don't like going behind their backs on this, but I agree it's the best course of action for the moment,” Weir had said. “Teyla says the Cereans are known for keeping to themselves. Although they are friendly to any visitors, they don't seek out trading partners, and don't leave their world. While that in itself isn't suspicious, it does suggest we should tread carefully. And all the members of the expedition understand the need to remain discreet?”

Evan recalled the array of stony faces from the night before. “Yeah, I think they know how important this is,” he said.

“Fine,” Weir had said. “You'll have the additional personnel by tomorrow morning.”

Three days later, the historians were still hip-deep in the archives, and Evan was starting to get restless. Parrish hadn't asked him again for a private conversation, and Evan had done his best to forget about it, though he hadn't had any luck forgetting the feel of Parrish's hand covering his own. Evan didn't have small hands, but Parrish's were huge, the fingers long and strong and surprisingly calloused, and no, Evan had not been looking at them this morning at breakfast.

He'd been worrying about the ability of the botanists to keep their cool around the Cereans, but in truth he was the one who was getting antsy, and it annoyed him that he might end up being the one to start their hosts asking questions. The hell of it was, it wasn't their hush-hush research that was making him twitchy, but his own personal – and increasingly X-rated – thoughts about Parrish. Christ, he didn't even know the guy's first name, and he was lying awake at night wondering what he looked like naked. Big, loose-limbed guys with farmers' tans and open, guileless features had never appealed to him before, but Parrish was getting under his skin in a way that made absolutely no sense. Yesterday he'd caught himself staring at the back of Parrish's neck as he sat bent over a microscope, long enough that anyone passing by could've noticed and wondered what the hell he was smoking.

So to distract himself – and to remove himself from the situation – he marched off into the hills above the town with his sketchbook and his P90. He tried to capture the landscape, but gave it up after a couple of failed attempts. The next thing he knew, his hand was flying over the paper, and in ten minutes he had the rough lines of Parrish's features outlined in broad strokes.

Annoyed, he ripped the page from the book and started to crumple it, then sighed and folded it carefully before sticking it in a pocket. If he was going to act like a lovestruck teenager, he figured he might as well go all the way.

  


    
    
    
    
 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

    
    
    
    
 

That night, Evan was still keyed up, unable to sleep. He considered jerking off, but the walls were thin and he knew who he'd be fantasizing about if he did. Anyway, he'd decided this crazy attraction to Parrish was only a temporary thing; as soon as this mission was over and they were back on Atlantis, he'd be too busy with work to think about his ridiculous adolescent crush. Personnel reports were due in a month, and he still had to make his promotion recommendations to Sheppard –

“Dammit,” he murmured, throwing his legs over the edge of the bed.

Outside in the garden that surrounded the guest quarters, the air remained warm, even this late at night. The twin moons that ruled the sky were both up, the first showing blood-red near the horizon, the other smaller, higher, a brilliant white. Evan didn't know enough about astrophysics to be able to explain the differing colors, and for the first time, his ignorance irritated him.

“Why don't you read a goddamned book sometime?” he growled to himself.

“Major?” Evan's hand was on his holster before he recognized the voice; turning, he saw Parrish coming toward him across the garden.

“Hey, Doc,” Evan said, steadfastly ignoring the way his pulse jumped at the sight of him. Parrish came closer, just close enough to make Evan uncomfortable, and make him have to tilt his head to meet his gaze. Geez, the guy really was a giraffe; he'd never gone for guys who were that much taller than him.

And he needed to stop thinking about this right now. “Couldn't sleep?” he asked, trying for nonchalant and missing it by a mile.

“I was about to ask you the same thing,” Parrish said, smiling gently.

“Nah, I'm good,” he lied. “Just had a lazy day today, needed to work off some excess energy.”

“You must be bored, babysitting us.”

Evan laughed. “Believe it or not, Doc, even a dumb grunt can be happy for a break from shooting and running.”

Parrish's face fell. “I – I didn't mean to imply that you were...”

“Hey, whoa, it's okay,” Evan soothed, and man, his hand had wound up on Parrish's arm again. He pulled back, trying not to make it look like he was eager to get away.

“I keep saying the wrong things,” Parrish muttered, shaking his head. “I'm sorry.” He looked up and caught Evan's gaze, and Evan was suddenly pinned, helpless. “That's what I meant to say the other night, when I asked to speak with you. That's _all _I meant to say. Just that I was – sorry. For unloading that on you.”

Somehow, Evan found his voice. “S'okay, doc. You weren't really yourself.”

Parrish barked a short laugh. “Or too much myself.”

“What do you mean?”

Parrish's eyes widened. “I – nothing.”

Evan took a step closer. He was getting sick of wandering around in the dark, and now was as good a time as any to get educated. “Don't tell me it's nothing. What did you mean?”

Parrish shut his eyes. “I, um. I suppose the truth is – I wanted you to know. About me.”

Evan's heart started to pound. “Why?” he asked, softly.

“Because I –” Parrish's eyes opened again, though his gaze didn't seek out Evan's this time. “I might have formed an inappropriate – attachment to you.”

Evan blinked at him. “You –”

“Oh, God,” Parrish breathed, clapping a hand over his mouth. “I can't believe I said that. I'm not even drunk.”

“It's okay,” Evan said, still stunned.

“No, it's not. You're in the American Air Force, for God's sake. I can't just –”

“The rules don't apply to you. Don't worry about it.” Evan waved a hand. “Just out of, uh, curiosity, when did you – ?”

Parrish looked at him then, and his cheeks flushed. “Well, to be truthful, right from the first time we worked together – in the, um, the forest. You probably don't remember.”

Shit, yeah, he remembered. Barely; it had been seven or eight months ago. “That was your first offworld mission, right?”

“Yes, I – ”

Evan shook his head. “I don't – look. I'm not trying to tell you how you feel, but sometimes stressful situations like that can – magnify things.” Parrish stared at him. “Feelings.”

“Are you saying I find you attractive because I confused you with a knight in shining armor?”

Evan frowned, sensing he was losing control of the conversation. Or maybe he'd never had it. “I wouldn't exactly –”

“Because I thought about that. I was frightened – it was the first time I'd seen a wraith – and you were so cool and competent –”

“Whoa, that's not such a big deal, I mean, the guy was _dead _–”

“– but then I started to – well, not _stalk _you exactly, but I might have asked a few people about you, discreetly of course, and I found out –”

“Wait a minute –”

“– that you _are _brave, and dedicated, and very intelligent, and you like to paint – well, suffice it to say I managed to justify my attraction as something more than just a fainting damsel syndrome.”

“Well,” Evan said weakly. “That's – uh, that's good.” Jesus, if only he'd known you were supposed to _research _your dumbass crushes.

“All of which is far more than you probably wanted to hear, but in my own defense, you did ask this time.”

“Right, yeah,” Evan murmured, rubbing at the back of his neck. “Okay.”

“Please don't worry that I expect you to return my feelings. I – ”

“What's your name?” Evan asked suddenly.

Parrish stared at him. “It's – I'm David.”

“David?”

“Yes?”

“Shut up,” Evan growled, hooking an arm around Parrish's giraffe neck and dragging him down before he could think better of it.

“Oh,” David said, when Evan finally let him go. “That's not what I was expecting you to do.”

“I'm not that intelligent,” Evan murmured against his lips. “Well, okay, I'm smart, but I'm _ignorant_. About a lot of things. I want to learn more.”

“I haven't – I doubt I'm more experienced than –”

“Jesus, I'm not talking about _sex_,” Evan said. “I'm talking about botany and sociology and why one moon is red and the other is white up there.”

David pressed his forehead to Evan's and put his big hands on Evan's hips. “Forgive me – sex seems to be all I can think about right now.”

And that was just so fucking adorable that Evan had to laugh and kiss him again. “Yeah, well, that's understandable.”

“I don't suppose we –”

“Not unless you want to find a convenient bush,” Evan murmured. “In fact, we shouldn't even be doing this here.”

“Right, yes, sorry,” David said, releasing Evan with what seemed like reluctance.

“I'm the one who's sorry. Look, you – this isn't actually a good idea. If we try to do this, it's not gonna be easy.”

“You mean we'd have to lie. Sneak around.”

“Yeah,” Evan breathed. “You sure you're up for that?”

“I don't know,” David answered. “To be honest, I had no idea this would ever be more than a fantasy. I'm having a little bit of trouble adjusting.”

Evan chuckled. “Okay. Why don't you think about it and let me know, huh? There's nothing we can do about this now anyway.”

“All right,” David said. “May I kiss you one more time?”

Evan closed his eyes briefly against the sudden wave of lust. Man, who knew he had a politeness kink? “In the interest of getting you used to the idea, sure,” he murmured, leaning in again. David pulled him against him, reeling him in slowly until they were pressed together from shoulder to hip, and Evan made a low noise in his throat as he realized that there was muscle and heat under that egghead exterior. David was full of surprises, not the least of which was that he was a really dirty kisser. By the time they pulled apart, Evan's hands had made a mess of David's hair, and Evan's ass had been thoroughly groped.

“Okay, so,” Evan rasped, touching his fingers to his no doubt swollen lips, “think that'll do you?”

“I – ah – yes, thanks,” David answered, just as scratchily.

“Don't mention it,” Evan said.

    
    
    
    
 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

    
    
    
    
 

  
Two days later, one of the historians radioed him and quietly requested a meeting as soon as possible. He arranged a conference with her, Shapiro, Brown and Parrish in their quarters in an hour.

Dr. Lall came straight to the point. “We used the last known break in the cultivation record – two thousand, eight hundred and fifty-seven years – and concentrated on texts from that period, hoping it would yield a culling reference. This morning, I found it; an eyewitness account, no less. Well, it wasn't actually much of a culling; the witness talks about how she was captured by a wraith and attacked.”

“And she survived?” Evan asked.

Lall nodded. “The wraith couldn't feed off her, even though it tried multiple times. She was shaken, but it didn't take any of her life. Several other Cereans apparently had similar experiences. The wraith took about fifty people away in darts, but never returned in the writer's lifetime. We looked for commemorative references, and found them – the hundredth anniversary of the last culling and every century after that for nearly a millennium. They call it the 'final battle,' or at least they did. It seems to have disappeared from the cultural memory, along with any mention of the wraith.”

“What could have prevented the wraith from feeding?” Evan asked. “Was there any reference to a personal shield?”

Lall shook her head. “The witness had no defense of which she was aware. She believed she was going to die.”

“Okay, great work,” Evan said. “I'd like you to come back with me to deliver a report to Doctor Weir.”

“Of course,” Lall said, nodding.

“Shapiro, you're in command 'til I get back.”

“At least now we know they're not wraith worshippers,” David said.

“Well, they weren't three thousand years ago, anyway,” Evan said grimly. Motioning to Lall, he said, “After you, Doc.”

  


    
    
    
    
 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

    
    
    
    
 

Doctor Weir went for the high ground, as Evan figured she would: she set up a meeting with the Cerean Council right away. But she also wasn't stupid. Of the civilians, she pulled back all but Parrish, Brown, and Lall, and brought along a couple of extra marines in their dress blues for a little extra sparkle – and muscle. Evan and his team stayed in their BDUs, and obviously armed.

The dinner went well; Doc Weir _was _a diplomat, after all, which meant she could bullshit with the best of them. She'd also been well prepared by Torrington and the other botanists, so she was able to talk intelligently about the Cereans' favorite subject, and to praise their many advances in horticulture.

Finally, the discussion got around to the wraith, but to Evan's surprise, it wasn't Weir who brought it up. After the last remains of the main course had been cleared, Martilla turned to Weir and said, “We feel great shame at having to confess something to you, Doctor Weir. In my defense, this is not usually a topic that is discussed with people from outside our world.”

“Oh?” Weir raised her eyebrows. “And what would that be?”

“The fact that we have been spared the scourge which plagues the rest of the galaxy. It is a great source of guilt for us, to know that we live free and untouched while so many others are destroyed.”

“I must confess we have been curious about how you've managed it,” Weir said, her tone and expression nothing but pleasant. Evan flicked a quick glance to Shapiro, who nodded imperceptibly, then checked the civilians. Brown and Lall were watching Weir, but Parrish's gaze, like Shapiro's, was glued to Evan. Evan tried his best reassuring smile, hoping it would be enough.

Martilla looked stricken. “We wish we could tell you how it is possible,” she said, “but the focus of our science has always been the earth and its bounty, and our best minds have been unable to discover the secret.”

Weir hesitated a moment, then said, “With your permission, our historians have been studying your archives; they have found a reference to a wraith attack nearly three thousand of your years ago.” Martilla looked genuinely surprised as Weir continued. “Apparently the wraith tried to feed on several of your people at that time, but they were unable to take any of their life essence. Can you think of any reason why this might have happened?”

Martilla shook her head. “This is the first I have heard of such an incident.” She turned to her colleagues, who stayed silent. “Are you saying they did not return because they were unable to feed upon us?”

“That seems the most likely assumption,” Weir answered. Leaning forward, she said earnestly, “Martilla, I don't think it's an exaggeration to say that we would give just about anything to find a truly effective defense against the wraith. If your people have an immunity to them, and we can discover this secret and find a way to share it with the rest of the galaxy...”

“You could do this?”

“We could try. But we would need your help and cooperation.” She held up a hand as Martilla opened her mouth. “Please understand, we're not just talking about imposing upon your hospitality or gaining access to your records. We're talking about taking medical samples – blood, tissue – from willing volunteers. This is probably the only way we'll be able to understand what makes the Cereans special.”

Martilla held Weir's gaze for a long moment, while Evan could practically feel the assembled Lanteans holding their breaths.

“When you are ready, Doctor Weir, I will be your first volunteer,” she said, voice low and determined.

    
    
    
    
 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

    
    
    
    
 

  
After that, things moved swiftly. Weir approved the bringing of Martilla and several other volunteers to Atlantis, where Beckett poked them with needles and sewed them up and probably gave them a lollipop. Weir did a little better, treating them to a lavish feast featuring stasis-packed vegetables from the Milky Way galaxy. Evan couldn't even imagine the cost to the SGC of having fresh Brussels sprouts trucked from Earth on the _Daedalus, _but it was a huge hit with the Cereans, who gobbled it all up and immediately asked to trade for the seeds.

A couple of days after the Cereans returned to their home world, Evan gated back with Parrish to attend a meeting called by the medical department. Beckett said that the initial tests had proved that the Cerean blood chemistry was markedly different from that of other Pegasus galaxy humans, as well as the Lanteans.

“Could that account for the reason the Wraith are unable to feed?” Weir asked.

Beckett nodded. “Further tests will be necessary, but it's possible. However, why their chemistry is unique is anyone's guess at this moment. Discovering the cause will be the key, and that could take months, perhaps years.”

Weir sighed. “All right, I think we've got all we need from the Cereans for now. Doctor Parrish, I'd like you to wrap up your team's operations on Cerea. Will forty-eight hours be enough time?”

Parrish opened his mouth, then closed it again. “Yes, I believe it will be,” he said, a little tightly.

Once they were back on Atlantis, Parrish all but disappeared, working constantly in the botany lab from early in the morning until well into the night. Evan tried not to read anything into this; he knew how scientists got when they were figuring out a new way to square the circle, and Parrish was probably just following some lead about one of his pet projects. But he still had to wonder if this was Parrish's answer to the question Evan had posed to him that night on Cerea. He also had to wonder why he'd gone back to using the guy's last name when he thought about him.

A little over three weeks later, Evan's door chime rang around oh one hundred, and okay, Evan just happened to be awake and reading a book because he'd had trouble sleeping. Parrish was at the door, flushed and wild-eyed, the perfect parody of the mad scientist. He looked like he'd seen the face of God, and Evan felt a weird spike of jealousy at the look of ecstasy on his face.

“David,” Evan said softly, when Parrish just stood there, motionless and stunned-looking. He took Parrish gently by the arms and drew him inside. “Hey, you still in there?”

David grinned at him, and it was like seeing fireworks for the first time; man, he was beautiful, why had Evan never noticed how fucking _beautiful _he was? “I've got it. I know why.”

It took Evan a second to process this, since he was still busy taking him in. “You know why – what?”

“Why the Cereans are immune to the wraith,” David said breathlessly. “I'm sorry, I know it's late, but I had to tell someone, and – ”

Evan couldn't help feeling a thrill at the fact that out of all his colleagues and friends, David had picked him to talk to. “So tell me.”

“It's the fruit,” David said. “Do you remember? The purple fruit you picked in the orchard that day?” Evan nodded. “I had a hunch, and I've just finished analyzing its chemistry, comparing it with the anomalies in the blood chemistry of the Cereans. It's the key; it's the reason they're immune.”

Evan scratched his chin, unwilling to burst David's bubble. “Didn't, uh, didn't you say it was poisonous to anyone but the Cereans?”

“That's true, yes,” David said. “But it's a problem I'm sure we can overcome.” He reached out to grip Evan's shoulders. “Evan, this could mean the eradication of the wraith threat in this galaxy.”

“Pretty cool, Doc,” Evan said, smiling.

David laughed at that, and suddenly, Evan was being pulled into a hug. He did his best to return it, but his upper arms were pinned. After a brief, final squeeze, David loosened his hold and drew back enough to look into Evan's eyes, and that was when all the oxygen left Evan's lungs.

“Is it too late to give you my answer?” David murmured, leaning in. Evan shook his head, and then David's mouth was on his, hard and insistent, and holy shit, who knew Mr. Polite could be this pushy?

Evan gave back as good as he got, but it was a struggle, because God, he'd been trying not to want this for weeks, and he'd been failing miserably, and now to suddenly have it was overwhelming. Pretty soon, he ended up flat on his back on the bed, David's long, lean body completely covering his. Evan didn't doubt he'd win in a fight, but there was something strangely hot about being surrounded by someone who was kissing you. He arched up against David experimentally and was met with resistance, David's body grinding down into his as he pinned him to the mattress.

“Is this okay?” David panted, pulling back suddenly.

Evan couldn't help it; he laughed. “Only if we start getting naked real soon.”

David grinned down at him, then sat up, straddling his thighs, and began undoing Evan's pants. Wanting to be helpful, Evan shucked out of his t-shirt, then helped David out of his jacket. When the last sock was gone, David stared down at him, a weird look on his face that Evan couldn't read. Before he could open his mouth to ask what was wrong, David lay down beside him and placed his open hand over Evan's heart. After a couple of seconds, the hand glided up to his shoulder, then slid sideways, fingertips caressing his collarbone. Evan closed his eyes and suppressed a shiver.

“Is this okay?” David asked again, voice almost a whisper this time.

Evan forced his eyes to open and focus on David's face. “Yeah,” he said, hoarsely. “Yeah, 'sgood.”

“I just – I've thought about this for so long. Thought about touching you.” David's hand was on Evan's arm now, skimming the sensitive skin of his inner elbow. “I still can't believe I'm actually doing it. That I'm – allowed.”

Christ. If this had been like all of Evan's other experiences with guys, both of them would have already gotten off. He thought about speeding things up, about just grabbing David's hand and putting it on his cock, but he knew that wasn't what he really wanted; that was just the embarrassment talking. Truth was, he'd never had this, never had somebody treat his body like it was some kind of – of shrine or something, and he was afraid of liking it too much.

David kissed him then, but it was slower, more tender than his earlier kisses, and after a second Evan realized David was doing the same thing with his mouth that he was doing with his hand – learning Evan's body, touching it in every way he could. With a noise that was frighteningly like a whimper, Evan buried a hand in David's hair and pulled him closer, opening under him. David groaned and took him up on the invitation, diving into Evan's mouth like there wasn't anywhere he'd rather be.

David's fingers brushed Evan's belly then, and that was it, that was all he could take. “C'mon, God, _please_,” Evan begged, and David plunged his tongue into Evan's mouth and wrapped his hand around his cock at the same time, and that was it, three swift, hard strokes and Evan was gone, orgasm slamming into him like the blast from a wraith stunner.

He wasn't sure how long he lay there gasping, but when he was sufficiently conscious again, he looked up to see David grinning down at him fondly. He tried to smile back, but he couldn't make his face work right.

“This is the best night of my life,” David said heartily, and Evan chuckled.

“Saving the galaxy, great sex – you're batting a thousand.” Reaching down and finding David still hard, he smiled and said, “Well, maybe you're only five hundred so far, huh?”

“Well, I – oh my,” David gasped, because Evan was sliding down the bed until he was kneeling between David's spread legs. “I suppose there's always – room for improvement.”

“Doc,” Evan said, leaning down to lick a broad stripe up the underside of David's cock, “you said a mouthful.”

  


    
    
    
    
 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

    
    
    
    
 

The weeks that followed were busy; Evan went on several away missions, always a very small step ahead of the wraith, the Genii, and whoever else was trying to kill them this week, and at night he came home to David, and that was almost as scary as running for his life half the time, though it was a hell of a lot more fun. David and his botany team briefed Weir on their discovery, then went to work on figuring out a way to pass on the Cereans' immunity to the rest of the galaxy. Evan tried to keep up with what they were doing, but he'd only gotten a C in high school chemistry, and a lot of  David's explanations went sailing over his head, even when he was really trying to pay attention.

He had been right about the main problem, though: the Cereans were the only ones who could eat the fruit that made the wraith want to spit them back out. It wasn't something you could ignore, but Evan kind of figured they'd pull a rabbit out of their asses at some point, devise a magic elixir from the fruit that actually wouldn't make people sick. Of course, as much as McKay liked to pretend he was a miracle worker, most science didn't work that way. And as the days and weeks wore on, Evan started to notice the long hours and the frustration taking their toll on David.

Sure, he was still polite, but he cut back on the time they spent together, to the point where Evan was starting to need his right hand again. He tried not to get bent out of shape about it – the guy was trying to save the galaxy, after all – but he wasn't going to save anything if he killed himself with overwork.

One night about two months in – already this was the longest relationship Evan had had in a pathetically long time, and the longest ever with a guy – Evan dragged David out of the lab after midnight and took him to bed, not even bothering to check if anyone was watching when he walked into David's quarters with him. What the hell, he wouldn't be there long anyway, not tonight.

“Okay,” Evan said, when he'd stripped the shirt off him and gently pushed David to sit on the bed, “you need to get some sack time.”

David looked up at him, gaze surprised and hurt, and Evan felt it like a gut punch. “But I thought you – ”

Evan wanted to say _that's not all this is_, but suddenly he wasn't sure any more. Maybe to Parrish, this was just a hot, albeit prolonged, roll in the hay with a uniform. Fists clenching, he heard himself say, “You're asleep on your ass. I don't think you're up for humpin' and pumpin'.”

David actually flinched, then said, softly, “I'm sorry.”

“Don't be.” Evan deliberately relaxed his hands, told himself to grow the fuck up, and said in a quieter tone, “Y'know, I'm not just after you for your body. I respect your mind, too.”

David chuckled at that, and then suddenly wrapped his arms around him, clutching him tightly around the waist. Evan sucked in a startled breath, tensing as David pressed his face to Evan's belly.

“Hey,” Evan murmured, stroking David's hair, his ear. “What's goin' on?”

David shook his head. “I – nothing. Nothing I can talk about yet.” He looked up at Evan. “Okay?”

Evan frowned, but nodded. “Okay,” he said, knowing he was lying. With a final caress to Evan's jaw, he asked, “You gonna be able to sleep?”

“Yes. I'm pretty exhausted.”

“Okay. G'night.” Evan turned to go, but before he reached the door, he heard David say his name softly.

“Yeah?” he asked, turning back.

David opened his mouth, shut it again. “Good night,” he murmured. Evan pasted on a smile and left, wishing like hell he'd gotten an A in chemistry all those years ago.

    
    
    
    
 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

    
    
    
    
 

  
The next day's mission to M3R-777 was boring, boring, _boring. _You would've thought he'd be grateful for an easy mission again, but it only pissed Evan off, made his bones grate and his skin itch. He didn't need to be here; there had to be a dozen other worlds where he could make himself useful running from _something. _

His team returned without so much as a hangnail just after noon, and right away he knew something was wrong, because everything was as quiet as a tomb. As soon as he could, he snagged Campbell. “Something happen with one of the other teams?”

Campbell shook his head. “No, sir. Doctor Parrish was taken to the infirmary shortly before you returned. He's – I haven't heard how he's doing, just that it looked pretty serious when they brought him in.”

Evan didn't know what look was on his face, but he knew it had to be pretty bad, because Campbell was looking at him sympathetically, like he was the grieving widow, for Christ's sake. “Okay, uh, thanks, Sergeant.”

Campbell nodded, then returned to his station. Yeah, maybe if he were Canadian military like Campbell, he could break down in the middle of the fucking gate room and run straight to the infirmary, but that wasn't gonna happen. So he descended the stairs to the locker room, and he took a fast shower, trying to make it look like he wasn't hurrying, and then he put on a fresh uniform and headed for the infirmary, trying to remember how to put one foot in front of the other.

When he reached the corridor outside the emergency room, he could hear coughing, then a gut-clenching retching noise, and his heart stopped. Jesus, that was David.

“Now, that's enough of that, lad.” Beckett's voice, firm and sure, and Evan immediately felt a little better, because Beckett was usually pretty together, but he sounded like he was totally in charge of the situation. “Rita, let's start him on a saline drip, please; he's lost a lot of fluid, and I'll be giving you that injection now to slow this down, all right? We don't want you spraining something; that wouldn't be very nice, would it?”

Another retching noise, and this time Beckett murmured something too low for Evan to hear. Before he knew it, he was moving forward, trying to get to David,  fuck regulations and trying to look like nothing mattered,  like this wasn't killing him –

“Hold on a minute, where do you think you're going?” Doctor Biro was suddenly blocking his way, hands fisted on her hips.

“I'm going in there, Doc,” Evan said, as calmly as he could. “I need to see Doc Par – David.”

“We'll let you see him as soon as he isn't puking his guts out,” Biro said matter-of-factly. “No need for you to be covered in vomit, too, is there?”

Evan's jaw clenched. “Just tell me he's gonna be okay.”

Biro's gaze softened at that, and Evan had never felt more inclined to run for his life. “We think he's going to be fine. There isn't enough toxin in that fruit to cause lasting damage, and we don't think it was in his system for very long.”

Evan stared at her. “The – did you say _fruit_? He ate some of the – of that poisonous fruit he's been working on?”  
   
Biro nodded. “He says he was trying to prove it wasn't as toxic as the Cereans claimed it was. Not a terribly sound experimental method, I'm afraid. Now, if you'll excuse me...?”

Evan nodded. “Sure, Doc, sure,” he muttered, waving a hand. After she had left, he staggered over to a chair and let his knees give out; then he buried his face in his hands and drew long, shuddering breaths until he could be sure he wasn't going to fall apart right there in front of the med team, God and everybody.

  


    
    
    
    
 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

    
    
    
    
 

“I don't usually swear at my patients, David, my lad,” Beckett said before releasing him a few hours later, “but if you ever do anything so bloody stupid again, I will personally boot your arse from here to the South Pier. Now go back to your quarters and spend the next forty-eight hours in bed, or I will have Major Lorne strap you to your mattress.”

“That might be fun, actually,” David said under his breath as they entered the transporter, his eyebrows waggling playfully at Evan. The effect was ruined a little by the fact that he still looked as pale as a ghost, and by the fact that Evan was so pissed off at him that _he _wanted to puke.

He managed to keep his mouth shut until they got back to David's quarters, but when David kissed him and said he was going back to the lab, Evan saw red, with jets of molten lava and a nuclear blast wave thrown in for good measure. Suddenly, David's back was pressed against a wall, and Evan was pressed up against him, and he had no idea how that had happened.

“Now you listen to me,” he growled as David stared at him, wide-eyed, “and listen good. You are going to do exactly what Doc Beckett told you to do, which is to lie flat on your back and rest, or I will kick your ass so far past the South Pier you'll need water wings, a snorkel and a friendly dolphin named Flipper to get back home.”

David closed his eyes. “Please let me...”

“I was _worried _about you, you asshole,” Evan choked out. “Do you know what it was like, listening while you – standing there and wondering if you were gonna – ” Evan stepped back abruptly, passed a shaking hand over his face. “Christ.”

“I'm sorry,” David whispered. “I shouldn't have – only I was – we're not finding a solution. The medical biochemists are telling us it can't be done, only – dammit, if they'd just start _helping _us instead of hindering us – ”

“And you think this was a good way to prove your side's smarter?” Evan said, swallowing a bitter laugh. “Jesus, even my six-year-old nephew knows not to swallow poison.”

“I was desperate!” David yelled, rounding on him. “I thought if the effects weren't as bad as the Cereans claimed they were, we could make a case for continuing the research.”

Evan blinked. “Wait a minute. They're pulling the plug?”

David shook his head. “Not entirely. But they want to scale back the work. I've got my entire team working on it, and they say there's no justification for devoting those kinds of resources to it. And now that I've proven to them just how toxic it is, I've hammered the final nail in the coffin myself.” He staggered over to the bed and sat on it heavily. “The hell of it is, they're right. The Cerean biochemistry – it's developed over thousands of years of interaction with their environment, and especially with this particular fruit. We can't just change the chemical makeup of an individual or a population overnight; that's how you kill people. Even if we find a way to dilute the toxicity – and we can't remove it, because the toxin is the key contributor to Cerean immunity – the change will take generations. It's not going to be the quick fix I hoped it would be.”

Evan sat down beside him. “I don't get it. Doc Beckett has that gene therapy; one injection and boom – instant new you.”

David smiled sadly. “It's not as simple, believe it or not, as genetic manipulation. And if you did manage to figure out a way to change blood chemistry through gene therapy, you're faced with the same problem: instantaneous change can be fatal. ” He shook his head. “The Cereans are like the monarch butterfly.”

Evan frowned. He'd been doing okay right up until that point. “Come again?”

“The monarch caterpillars eat the leaves of the milkweed plant, which contain a toxin. However, the caterpillar experiences no ill effects, and when it becomes a butterfly, the toxin makes it unpalatable to birds and other predators.”

“And none of the other butterflies have this trick figured out, huh?” Evan asked. David shook his head. “Well, that's only because they don't have you.”

“Evan...”

“Look, not to use a cliché, but Rome wasn't built in a day. You'll figure out a way to make this work, and maybe it'll take fifty years, a hundred, but it'll happen.”

“And maybe you'll have the wraith beat in a year,” David countered.

“And then you can go back to working on the whole global warming thing,” Evan said, nudging him with a shoulder. “Work on saving _our _planet again.” When David only regarded him sadly, Evan blew out a breath. “Listen, I'm not trying to patronize you, here, but I've been at this alien-fighting game a little longer than you have, and the one thing I've learned is that there's no magic bullet. It's a pitched battle for every lousy inch of territory. You can't give up, but you can't kill yourself trying to take only one hill, either, because then you'll lose the six other hills they're hiding behind.”

David nodded. “Yes, well. That does make a certain amount of sense.”

Evan thought it was a pretty weak endorsement, but at least it was a start. “Hey, how about you get some rest?” he asked, smoothing back David's hair.

“Okay.” David looked up at him this time. “I'm sorry. For scaring you.”

“'Sokay,” Evan told him gently, “I guess I'll probably do the same for you one of these days.” He hesitated before adding, “I gotta go, but I'll come back later on. If you want.”

“I'd like that very much,” David murmured. Evan leaned down and kissed him softly, then turned and left before he did or said something really stupid. Well. Even more stupid, anyway.

    
    
    
    
 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

    
    
    
    
 

  
“You're working late.”

Evan looked up to see the Colonel standing in his office doorway. “Yes, sir. I – kind of lost a couple of hours in the middle of the day; wanted to make 'em up.”

Sheppard nodded. “That's very conscientious of you, Major.”

“Thank you, sir.”

Sheppard folded his arms and leaned against the frame. “Why don't you take tomorrow off? I was planning to get caught up on some paperwork myself. I'll stand your OOD watch.”

Evan's brain ran in circles for a few seconds before answering. “That's – really not necessary, sir.”

“Sure it is.” Sheppard's gaze was suddenly laser-beam intense. “Call it a reward for a conscientious officer.”

Evan nodded slowly, a couple of the pieces that made up Sheppard's puzzle finally slotting into place. “Thank you,” he said after a moment.

“No problem.” Sheppard shoved off from the wall. “Good night, Major.”

“Night, sir,” Evan said, unable to suppress a smile as he turned back to his laptop.

    
    
    
    
 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

    
    
    
    
 

  
Despite his CO's tacit blessing, it was close to oh dark thirty when Evan let himself into David's quarters. David was dead to the world as Evan gingerly lifted the covers and slid in behind him, but he shifted and sighed softly when Evan pressed close.

“Shh,” Evan whispered. “It's okay. Go back to sleep.”

“Mmmmph,” David said, and did just that. Evan burrowed closer to his warmth and followed him, lulled by the reassurance of David's sure, steady breaths.

He awoke with a start, heart pounding from the momentary panic brought on by unfamiliar surroundings. It was just after dawn, but David's quarters, unlike Evan's, looked out on the setting sun, so it was still fairly dark. But Evan didn't need a lot of light to know he was alone in the bed.

He tensed, listening, and heard the muffled but unmistakable sound of somebody brushing their teeth. The tension didn't leave him as he waited for David to emerge from the bathroom. Was he just freshening up, or was he going to sneak off and head back to the lab against orders?

When the door to the bathroom finally hissed open, Evan closed his eyes and feigned sleep. He heard soft footsteps coming closer, then stopping right beside the bed. There was a long pause after that; Evan tried to keep his breathing shallow and even, but it wasn't easy.

Finally, the footsteps moved to the other side of the bed, and the mattress dipped. Evan swallowed his heart again when he felt cool air at his back, and then the unmistakable feel of David's long, lean body against him. 

“Evan?” A hand slid over his side and across his chest, settling on his right pec. “You're awake, aren't you?”

Evan took David's hand in his and squeezed it. “Yeah,” he admitted, a little sheepishly.

“When do you have to go to work?”

“I don't. The Colonel – uh. Gave me the day off.”

“Oh,” David said, then: “_Oh_.”

Evan had to chuckle at that. “Yeah, 'oh' pretty much covers it.”

“Do you think –”

“Yeah. I guess. Who the hell knows? This is Sheppard we're talking about. Man's a mystery.”

David tightened his hold on him, and Evan couldn't pretend he didn't enjoy it. “I – ” Evan heard David take a deep breath, let it out, start again. “I need to say something.”

Evan frowned at the tremble in David's voice. “Yeah?”

Another stretch of deep breathing exercises. Just at the point where Evan was starting to get good and worried, David blurted, “I don't know why you're here. With me. I mean in the general sense, rather than right here at this moment. I mean – why you're with me.”

Evan actually chuckled at that, more from relief than anything else. God, for a second there he'd thought he was about to get dumped. “You want a list?”

“You think this is a joke,” David said, in a small voice.

Evan blinked, startled. “No, I – ”

“I know it may sound foolish to you, but I'm not – heroic. I tried to be, and we all saw how well that turned out.”

“What are you saying?” Evan demanded. “That you pulled that stunt, played Russian Roulette with your life, because you wanted to – what, to _impress _me?”

“No! Not exactly, and certainly not entirely.” One more deep breath. “I suppose I wanted to be – to be worthy of you.”

Evan's heart stopped. He made to roll over, to face him, but David's arm held him fast.

“No, please don't.” David's words were muffled; Evan felt the press of his forehead against his shoulder. “I can't look at you and tell you this.”

“Jesus, David,” Evan breathed. “What the hell do you think I am? Why would you ever think you had something to – to _prove _to me? Did I ever make you think I wanted that?”

“What do you want from me, then?”

Evan wrenched himself free from David's grip and turned toward him. In the growing light, he could just see that David's face was twisted into a stricken mask.

“I want – you. I mean,” he added, as David's expression closed up, “the you that you are. Christ, that doesn't even make _sense_, I know, but –”

“But why?”

“Man,” Evan sighed, running a hand through his hair (great, he was starting to _sweat_), “what do you want from me, a term paper? Why does anybody fall in love with anybody?”

David stared at him for a few seconds. “L-love? You love me?”

Evan reached up and caressed his cheek. “What part of my chewing your ass out about trying to _kill yourself _yesterday failed to register with you? Aren't you supposed to be some kinda genius?”

David shook his head. “Not about that.” He leaned into Evan's hand, eyes falling shut. “I – I'm in love with you, too.”

“Okay,” Evan said, the smile soon threatening to split his face in half. “That's – good.”

“Very good,” David agreed, and then he was leaning close, mouth brushing against Evan's, and _oh, yeah_, this was very good, great, spectacular. Groaning, Evan let David roll him onto his back, their kisses swiftly getting hotter.

When David slipped his fingers under the waistband of Evan's boxers, Evan gasped, “Hey, I think this is against doctor's orders.”

“I'm in bed,” David said primly, planting a sucking kiss on Evan's neck.

Evan arched under the attention, dick hardening. “Yeah, but you should be the one flat on your back, not me.” Shoving, he flipped David over (thank God for his bigger bed) and sat up, straddling him.

David stared up at him, gasping. “Oh, my God, that was – so incredibly hot.” He reached up to drag Evan down again, but Evan batted his hands away.

“Forget it, Doc,” he growled. “You're takin' it easy.”

“You've got to be kidding me,” David whined. “I want – ”

“I know what you want,” Evan said, leaning down and biting at his chin, “but you're gonna let me give it to you.”

“And what am I supposed to do?”

Evan licked his Adam's apple. “You're just gonna lie back and take it.”

David stared up at him, eyes glazing over with lust as Evan watched the realization hit him like a two-by-four. “O-okay,” he stammered finally.

Evan smiled. Silently, he started stripping David, pushing up his t-shirt and pulling it over his head, then sliding his boxers down his legs. He took care of his own underwear quickly, then straddled David again, surveying the territory. David stood it for about a minute, then begged, “For the love of God, please do something.”

Evan's smile turned to a grin. “Don't get your blood pressure up,” he murmured, stroking a hand over David's shoulder, then down over his left pec. “You'll get what you need.”

David shifted his hips at that, and Evan felt the press of a hard cock against his inner thigh. In retaliation, he rolled David's nipple between thumb and forefinger, eliciting a groan and a soft curse.

“Yeah,” Evan breathed, leaning down, “that's it. Let me hear you.” He kissed his way down David's body, making him shiver and moan, resisting all attempts on David's part to participate in the proceedings. When he reached David's groin, David was trembling all over, his muscles bunched tight and his fists clenched, a tautly drawn wire of lust.

Evan closed his mouth over the tip of David's cock and sucked a little, but he could tell David was close, and he didn't want him to come that way. After a minute, he pulled back, earning a frustrated, broken sound from David, and sat up, leaning over to open David's bedside drawer.

“Evan – ” It was a plea, and it went right to Evan's cock, lighting him up like a Christmas tree. He worked quickly, coating his fingers, then reaching back and pushing in, hastily preparing himself. The burn was worse than he'd been expecting – it'd been a long time since he'd done this, and so far he'd only topped with David – but he rode it out until the pain was almost gone.

David brushed his fingers over Evan's knee, making him jerk in surprise. “I thought you – ” David began.

Evan grunted softly as he pulled his fingers free. “Easier for you this way,” he said. David kept looking up at him, watching him silently until Evan could feel his cheeks heating up. “What?”

David shook his head. “Nothing.” His hand slid up to Evan's thigh, squeezing it gently. “Everything. You.”

Evan didn't know what the hell to say to that, so he just wrapped a hand around David's cock, fumbled the condom over it and slicked it, then lifted up, positioning himself. David sucked in a sharp breath as Evan started to slide down onto him, the head pushing past his resistance. “Okay?” Evan asked, as though David were the one getting fucked.

David nodded frantically. “Yes, yes, please, oh, Evan – ”

Evan chuckled at that, then slid down a little further. The burn was back, but it was a different kind, more like a fire that had banked down to the embers, spreading heat through his bones and his blood. Biting his lip, he concentrated on opening himself up, on letting David in, and then it was happening, in one sudden, perfect glide.

“That's – oh, God, I'm – you're – ” David whispered.

Evan gave himself a few seconds to get used to the dimly remembered feeling of fullness. Experimentally, he squeezed down around David's cock, earning him another stream of incoherent babble. Then he lifted up a couple of inches, descended, then another inch, down again, increasing the breadth of his strokes in small increments. By the time he was gliding David's cock almost all the way out, there was no more pain, only pure, electrifying pleasure.

David reached out and wrapped a hand around Evan's cock, letting him fuck into the tight fist he made as he fucked himself on David's cock. Evan groaned and did a little babbling of his own then, sweat prickling his arms and legs. He sped up his pace, placing one hand on David's chest to steady himself, and David covered it with his free one, the fingers strong and warm, and that was it, that was the last straw; Evan threw his head back and came like a rocket going off, clenching down around David's cock and sending him over with a groan and a convulsive jerk of his hips.

Slowly, he lifted himself free, then stripped off the condom and disposed of it. David lay there, still trembling slightly, his breathing quick but even. “You okay?” Evan asked, leaning down, concerned.

David opened his arms, and suddenly Evan was being pulled close into his warm embrace. It was a little weird, being cuddled by somebody whose arms wrapped right around you, but it also felt – surprisingly good. He wriggled an arm free and looped it around David's lower back, and he was soon starting to drift off again, despite the sunlight now seeping through the curtains.

Just as he was dropping off, Evan felt the press of lips against his temple, and smiled. Yeah, he might be at the top of his game, at a peak in his career, doing some of the most important work in this or any other galaxy, but that wasn’t all there was, wasn’t all he needed anymore.

And he was good with that.

**Author's Note:**

> First published January 2008.


End file.
